


please insert coin

by cosmicpoet



Category: Black Mirror (TV), Black Mirror: Bandersnatch (2018)
Genre: Car Accidents, Hallucinations, Homophobia, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Murder, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 05:38:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 8,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicpoet/pseuds/cosmicpoet
Summary: There are always more choices for Stefan to make. And still, you have power in a universe that has no place for you other than what you choose to give it.Yes,you.(a choose your own adventure fic - let me know which ending you get!)





	1. PLEASE INSERT COIN / START

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT: This isn't a linear story. Clicking 'next chapter' won't give you the choice that you need to end this better than it ended before. At the end of each chapter, you'll have to make a choice; click whichever you choose, and follow from there. Good luck.

He doesn’t recognise it, but then again, there’s not much right now that he recognises in his life. Sometimes, things just _happen -_ not in Colin’s beautiful ‘oh, just let it happen darling’ drawl against the nothingness of the universe, so poignant that Stefan can picture him saying it right now - no, things happen because they must have happened before. It’s a pattern, and not one that he knows how to break.

Stefan’s hands grace the piece of paper that somehow must have sprung into his pocket at some point in this current eternity. There’s handwriting on it - undoubtedly Colin’s, even though he doesn’t know how he knows what Colin writes like. The familiar tune in his mind hums with the possibility that perhaps he’s just attuned to the person he loves - no, _admires,_ because he just _can’t,_ not now, not with Bandersnatch about to skyrocket him to a legacy. What if Colin writes this way because Stefan’s eyes were made, created, fine-tuned to look upon anything he has to say with reverie and regard?

_‘If you’re feeling down, go to 8 Callister Street. Tell them Colin Ritman sent you. Je te verrai encore une fois, Stefan.’_

8 Callister Street? And what’s with Colin waxing what Stefan assumes to be poetic, in French of all languages? Still, there’s trust in his admiration, and self-destruction in his trust, and he pushes himself through the creaking veins of alleyways and streets like he’s burning through the wings of a butterfly, until he finds that he’s in the exact place that Colin must have willed him to go. And how beautiful, how subservient he must be - oh, he imagines the glory of it now. Stefan Butler, visionary, game creator, in love with the parts of the world that he only dares to reach for.

If only defining himself were as easy as defining an ideological legacy.

He knocks on the door. As ridiculous as he knows it to be, he’s hoping that Colin answers, even though he _won’t,_ this isn’t his house (and how does he know that?) but god, there’s the beauty of imagination, the very vessel that has pushed him like coagulating blood to this moment, and he can just enamour himself for a moment with the picture of Colin standing at the threshold.

It’s a man he doesn’t recognise.

“Who’re you?”

“U-Uh…I’m…Stefan. C-Colin Ritman sent me.”

“Colin Ritman, huh? You ain’t fuckin’ with me?”

“No. He said…” Stefan debates showing him the note, but that would destroy something so fragile, something he wraps his hand around, now, in his pocket, as he - yes, _he -_ makes the decision to keep it to himself.

“Whatever. Come in.”

Unsteady, he steps through the door and follows the man into the living room of the house. The curtains are drawn, and Stefan would be anxious, had he any sense of self preservation or control left in his life.

“What you lookin’ for?”

“I…I don’t know. Like I said -”

“Colin sent you, yeah. You must be his little protégé.”

“I -”

“Look, lad, I’m not interested in who you are or why you need this shit. If Colin’s sent you, it means you’re in the hole. Least, that’s what he calls it. Nothin’ some Adam and grass won’t sort out.”

“Who’s Adam?”

“Adam…y’know, ecstasy?”

“Oh.”

“So you want it or not?”

“Colin said -”

“Doesn’t matter what Colin said. You want it or not?”

“Yeah…yeah, sure. H-How much does it cost?”

“Colin’s got it covered. He mentioned you a bit ago, slipped me some extra cash in advance.”

“Oh. Like he knew I’d…”

“Save it, Stefan. I ain’t interested.”

The man hands him a pill from a small box, then packs some green nuggets into a bag no larger than his little finger.

“Go on, get outta here.”

Stefan, ever used to following orders, obliges.

[GO TO COLIN'S APARTMENT](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522903/chapters/41284214) | [GO BACK HOME](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522903/chapters/41290475)


	2. MULTIPLAYER

The thick breeze of the night air overwhelms Stefan as he steeps himself into the fate that he’s working his way towards. He’s not sure if it’s right to slip the pill into the bag with the marijuana, but he guesses that if he’s taking it all tonight, it shouldn’t really matter. Then again, there’s one person who would know. One person that he’s started to feel safe around.

Well, not safe. Secure, perhaps? It’s more like a feeling of comfort; not exactly that he’s _not worried_ about bad things happening to him, more like he _doesn’t care_ when he’s around Colin. He could go full Jerome F. Davies, lose his mind and create something beautiful with his own brain matter, scattered on his bedroom walls, and as long as Colin would think that he died as Patroclus, he would be satisfied.

It explains a lot. Some of which Colin can’t bear to confront just yet; not here, not sober. But it _does_ explain how he’s standing outside Colin’s apartment block, wondering how he’s going to get inside, and if Colin even _wants_ him to come inside.

_If Colin even wants him._

But he must, Stefan convinces himself that he _does,_ because in the same instant, Colin is right next to him. Leading him up the staircase, his footfall light and in perfect time with Stefan’s own; then they breach through the door in a way that makes the curtain behind them fall, and now, the rest of the apartment block outside, Stefan’s house, Tuckersoft - they don’t exist. It’s just this.

“Kitty’s out with Pearl,” Colin says, slumping on the couch.

“Oh.”

“She’ll be gone all night. Staying with a friend.”

“Why? Did you two…fight?”

“Nothing like that. Guess I just knew I’d be preoccupied.”

“With?”

“With you. I take it you went to see Rolo?”

“W-Who? The drug guy?”

“Yes, Stefan, _the drug guy._ What’d he give you?”

“Uh,” Stefan says, fishing the bag out of his pocket, “this.”

“Good combo,” Colin purses his lips, raises his eyebrows, and nods, all whilst staring dead at Stefan, like there’s something just behind him that clings to him, persistently out of reach. It’s unnerving, but better than not having Colin’s gaze at all.

“So…”

“So let’s get to it, then.”

Colin takes the bag from Stefan, grinding up the marijuana and rolling a neat spliff. 

“You’re going to want to take this first,” he holds out the pill to Stefan.

“Now?”

“If you want. Tastes vile, so it’s best to get it over with. You can crush it and bomb it if you’re scared, but it’ll take longer to get into your system.”

“So I just…?”

“Yeah. Just go for it. No choice necessary.”

Without thinking, and in complete trust and complete lack of understanding, Stefan sticks the bitter pill at the back of his throat and tries to dry swallow it; it tastes worse than anything he’s ever had before, and it’s all he can do not to retch and vomit. Colin, without even looking up, slides a glass of water across the table to him, which he gulps down, and then it’s over.

“Now we wait a bit,” Colin says, popping a tab of LSD on his tongue, “and once you’ve come up, then we’ll have this.” He holds up the spliff to the light like it’s a trophy. And then time passes. And then they do as they have claimed they will. And then it progresses. As it must.

The world, guided into melting by untrustworthy perception, becomes everything that he needs to see. There’s magic painted onto the walls, and with the lightest blow of inspiration, Stefan sees that he can create masterpieces without - or despite - destroying himself. And yet, looking at all of this lies secondary, pale, to looking at Colin. Slick with sweat, smirking in the car crash of his body, he seems to see right through Stefan.

See him for what he is.

Stefan’s chest swells with anxiety. Loose between his ribs, his heart pounds fast, faster, peaking, anticipation of the drop pushing his hands until they’re almost touching Colin’s, and then they’re looking at each other, and his lips look so soft, so beautiful, but _Christ, this isn’t okay, we could lose our jobs if we…_

[CONFESS](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522903/chapters/41288657) | [RUN](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522903/chapters/41284445)


	3. FLEE

No.

No!

No…

He can’t. He’s a _coward._ The burn of forbidden action sticks like candle wax onto his hands, hardening before he can even comprehend what he almost did. How _selfish_ he must be, to even think this way, to put Colin - _The Colin Ritman_ of all people - in this position; he could lose his job, they could _both_ lose their jobs! And just because Stefan hates himself, doesn’t mean that Colin has nothing to lose.

Sacrifice is the only way forward. Jerking himself upwards, his legs shake and his knees almost buckle, but Colin delays his reaction for just long enough that Stefan can bolt down the hallway and out of the door; he’s sure that Colin will see him for the pathetic freak that he is, and he’ll just get up to lock the door behind him and wonder if there’s such a thing as Bandersnatch being cursed for failure and destruction.

Down…

Down…

The bite of the air outside hits him full on, almost winding him for a moment. Hitching in his throat, his breath cuts into him in sharp bursts of pain. Where does he want to go? Where _can_ he go? He’s surely just alienated Colin, perhaps the only person who could ever come close to understanding him, and there’s no way that he can go back to his father’s house. Not _his_ house, but his father’s. Nothing in this world belongs to Stefan Butler.

So he just walks.

And walks…

And walks…

[TURN LEFT](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522903/chapters/41284931) | [TURN RIGHT](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522903/chapters/41288288)


	4. LEFT

His vision blurs as he runs quickly against the current of the wind. It pushes his hair back from his face, and there’s the feeling of something alien on his cheeks; something colder than just air. Tears. Streaming down, and he’s ashamed - _of course he is_ \- but he knows that there’s no point trying to stop now. At least it’s nighttime, and it’s unlikely that he’ll cross paths with anyone, so he can be alone with his useless hands and his tears and his goddamn loneliness.

If only Colin were here.

It’s a _stupid_ thought. He chastises himself for ever thinking it, for even allowing himself the privilege of having Colin in his mind, running his hands through his hair - _god, those magic hands that create and create and must make everything they touch good._

The human brain is a fragile thing. And Stefan scoffs at the thought, because for something so fragile to break so much without killing him seems like the universe is just laughing in his face. No, not the universe. Whoever is controlling this thing. Why did he run? Colin would have at least heard him out; sure, there’s no way in hell his feelings would have been reciprocated, but at least it would have been nice to pretend that the coy smile Colin would have given him could have been directed in love.

Now, he’s just alone, lost, higher than he’s ever been (for someone who, he laughs at the realisation, has never actually been high before - at least in this timeline). The roads stretch out onto each other, winding and twisting like snakes shedding their many skins, and it aches in the marrow of his bones that he can only take _one_ of them. There’s so much to discover about the world, and, enamoured by the fleeting idea that the more he creates, the more he learns, the less room he’ll have in his head for the thoughts that taunt him, he breaks down.

Finally, his knees have given in. They don’t _give in,_ they simply have, at some point in the past, _given in,_ either in the past thirty seconds, or a lifetime away, and whatever is pushing him to the brink of eternity is taunting him by withholding knowledge.

He wants to scream at the air. The only word that his mouth can form rings in his ears as _Colin,_ and he spits on the ground, trying to wash out the destruction that he’s terrified of causing to the man he loves. As the minutes pass, he can’t move. Nobody will make that decision for him. It’s just Stefan Butler, breaking down, a lemniscate figurine on the desktop of a vengeful Deity, and _please, let this be over. Just let me be._

Whoever decides to drive down the road without headlights on in the pitch black makes a choice for him.

The car connects with his body and, for a moment, there’s peace as he’s suspended in midair. Not quite falling to the ground. You see, when an object is thrown upwards, there’s a brief moment - the most infinitesimal of unimportant things - where it stops, before falling down again. But moments contain infinities, and he’s there, hanging like a rag doll with his arms and legs all splayed out and a metallic taste spreading, coursing through his mouth, right down to his stomach and lungs, carried by those tiny little capillaries all the way to the tips of his fingers.

Then, he crashes back to the ground, and everything within him is on fire.

The car, merely a phantom of one failed decision, speeds off. Perhaps, to the driver, Stefan was only a pothole in the road, and he can’t complain or refute the idea that forms in his mind that maybe, just maybe, that’s all he is. Still, there’s hope yet. A phone box at the corner of the road, beckoning him to come and decide what his life is worth.

Achingly, with the burn of broken bones in his arms and legs, Stefan propels himself on his stomach across the road, collapsing inside the phone booth. There’s blood everywhere - he notices that only now, and it makes him laugh weakly.

Is this it? The end of Bandersnatch?

[CALL COLIN’S APARTMENT PHONE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522903/chapters/41285606) | [CALL 999](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522903/chapters/41286146)


	5. A LIGHT THAT NEVER GOES OUT

He’s getting weaker by the second, and he uses this as an excuse to justify to himself why he, somehow, knows the number of the phone in Colin’s house. Yeah…he’s just lost so much blood that he doesn’t remember _how_ he knows the number; and, if anything, he’s just lucky that he remembers the number itself. He’s thankful, too, that he has enough money in his pocket to call it.

It rings…

And rings…

And rings…

With no answer.

Just his luck. If he’s not alone in this, if everyone really is being controlled by _someone,_ then whoever is controlling Colin must really want Stefan dead. That’s all he can think. And what will it mean to Colin, when he finds out that the pathetic man who ran out of his apartment went and got himself killed?

_God, what if Colin thinks it’s intentional? What if…_

_Well, does it even matter now?_

The glaring light inside the phone box illuminates the bloodstain on Stefan’s shirt, and he fumbles with his hands, like they’re almost not his own, to try and put pressure on the wound. There’s something stuck in his chest, either that or the pain is so intense that he can no longer distinguish between what is real, and what he feels to be real. When his hands push down on his stomach, he tries to focus on the soft feeling of skin (wishing it was Colin - not dying, but that Colin’s hands were on him, that his gaunt flesh belonged to someone who deserved freedom).

It’s right now, at this moment, that Stefan thinks he is dead. Because suddenly, everything is alright. He’s lightheaded, looking up at the open door of the phone booth, where he sees an angel, bathed in softness and heavenly light.

No. Not an angel.

_Colin._

“What did you do?” Colin asks. Monotone. Of course he doesn’t care. Why should he?

“I…car…”

“No, Stefan, it was a rhetorical question. Save the details for the hospital.”

“H-Hospital? How are you…?”

“I followed you. Can’t have you running out of my apartment high as a fucking kite, can I? Wouldn’t look very good for anyone following the life of Colin Ritman.”

“Is…is that it? You really…don’t c-care enough to…”  


“Shut up,” Colin says, kneeling down next to Stefan and placing his hands over Stefan’s. Initially, Stefan smiles into the gesture, but then the pain of pressure overtakes him and he gasps harshly.

“Sorry,” Colin continues, “guess that hurts.”

“Mm.”

“I do care, you know. But you’re not dying.”

“I am.”

“Sure, you’re dying now. And we can try and get you to a hospital, but…no, yeah, you’re fucked. Really fucked. Still, there’s always next time.”

“N-Next t -”

“Stop talking. At least stay alive long enough to hear me out.”

Stefan nods, silent.

“You’ll just reset. People make choices all the time. More wrong ones than right ones. This won’t be the last time we see each other.”

“B-But -”

“Talking, Stefan.”

“No, listen to me! I won’t be…me when I see you again. A-At least…not this me.”

“Yeah. That’s the hard part.”

“And you. _This_ you. You’re not dying…your timeline is still…”

“Still going on, yeah. Which means that I’m not gonna see you again. Another me, another you, though. They’ll make a good go of it, eh?”

“Better than us?”

“By miles.”

“T-That’s…that’s…” Stefan finds it harder to pinpoint the words that he wants to use, flitting in and out of consciousness, “good.”

He feels Colin’s arms around him, no longer applying pressure to the wound, but simply cradling him, rocking him into his inevitable death. There’s a sick sense of satisfaction that floods Stefan’s body - not quite a martyr, but it’s good enough for him.

Something peaceful overcomes him. The last things he feels are Colin’s arms around him, and if he were to concentrate enough on the final remnants of life that are slowly ebbing out of him, he would perhaps feel tears falling onto his face from above.

**END** | [TRY AGAIN?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522903/chapters/41284931)


	6. HOSPITAL BLUES

Sentiment has no place here. And although there’s a nagging persistence in his brain that tells him to call Colin, he’s more preoccupied with the thought of burdening him even more. 

_Yes, Stefan, haven’t you done quite enough damage to Colin tonight?_

Rationality is the way forward. With shaking hands, he manages to call 999; the phone hangs off the hook, and he manages to hold it so lightly against his ear that it risks falling away and dangling loose at any moment.

There’s no time to listen to what the operator has to say. He just about manages to choke out the word _ambulance_ before the call is transferred.

“I…I was hit…”

“Hit? Have you been in a fight?”

“No…car…”

“You’ve been hit by a car?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell us your location?”

“I…I don’t…I don’t know…p-phone box…”

“We can narrow down the area for you, just hold on. What’s your name?”

“S-Stefan…”

“Alright, Stefan. Stay on the line for me, okay?”

“I…c-can’t…”

“Can you tell me what injuries you have?”

“I…”

With the phone swaying back and forth, tapping against his face like water torture, he fades away into obscurity. Just the way he’s always been terrified of.

And then he wakes up.

_Time to make another choice. Or…_

White light assaults him from all over, and he feels like his head is splitting in two. Slowly, as he gradually wakes up more and more, he feels the softness of a bed underneath him, the discomfort of a needle in his arm, and pain all over his body.

_Or not. Not dead yet, Stefan Butler._

He can’t recall a single real, tangible moment of the day that passes. There are vignettes of a life that he feels he isn’t quite living, snapshots of nurses adjusting fluids, questions he can’t (or won’t?) answer, and then slowly, gradually, tentatively, he comes back to some semblance of what normal should be.

“Mr Butler,” a nurse says, her kind eyes looking onto him with the sort of sympathy that makes him wish he _had_ died back in that phone box, “you have a visitor. Would you like me to send him through, or are you not accepting visitors at this time?”

“No, it’ll be my dad…let him in, he’ll be worried,” Stefan says, each word more difficult than the last. Not only does his throat ache with disuse, the realisation of exactly what he must have put his father through burdens him; it aches more than his broken bones.

“It isn’t your father,” the nurse explains, “it’s…it’s _Colin Ritman.”_

“Colin Ritman?”

“You know, the game designer. He’s really out there - in the flesh!”

“Oh.”

[ACCEPT VISITORS](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522903/chapters/41287295) | [REFUSE VISITORS](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522903/chapters/41286767)


	7. PAX

“N-No. Not right now. I’m sorry,” Stefan says, his eyes closed. He can’t bear to look upon the faces of the people that he keeps disappointing, right down to the nurse who obviously loves Colin Ritman. He must seem like such an arsehole, refusing to see the one person who deserves everything that he wants.

_God knows why the one thing that Colin wants right now is to see Stefan._

“That’s alright, Mr Butler -”

“Stefan.”

_“Stefan._ You’ve been through a lot. Whatever you think is best for yourself is probably what is.”

He scoffs, regretting the impulse immediately when pain bursts through his chest. _Whatever he thinks is best._ His therapist would say otherwise. So would his father. So, probably, would Colin. After all, what does stupid Stefan Butler know, other than how to embarrass himself in front of his idol and then land himself in hospital?

The nurse leaves, not disguising her disappointed face as well as she probably thinks she is. Sighing, Stefan sinks down into the bed, begging for it to swallow him up. And if his visitor really _is_ Colin, then does his father even know what’s happened? He must be so worried. Sure, there are times - a lot of times - where he hates his father for inadvertently causing the death of his mother, but right now, the only emotion he knows how to feel is guilt.

Crushing, overwhelming guilt.

Festering in his own feelings of inadequacy, Stefan imagines the nurse telling Colin that no, he isn’t accepting visitors. He should feel _something_ because of this - pride at having the guts to turn _The Colin Ritman_ away from his bedside, self-condemnation at ignoring someone who he’s evidently made to worry…

Wait, no. There’s no way in hell that Colin Ritman would worry about someone as insignificant as him.

Day passes into evening, and the only indication of such is the quieting down of noise; he refuses food, won’t cooperate with the nurses. He just wants to be alone. Maybe there’s a chance for death yet?

And then evening sinks its way into night, as predicted, as always, as controlled by the seasons and the tides and the moon and the fucking wonder of the fact that the world can exist. There’s quiet, now, all around him, seeping into him. Dripping like the IV, something invading his body, controlling him, programming him from the inside out.

He almost falls into sleep, only to find himself pulled back at the last second. Initially, he doesn’t know _why,_ or what disturbed him, until he squints his eyes in the darkness and sees a figure at the bottom of his bed. 

Desperate to scream, he opens his mouth, but the foul smelling hand of the still-indistinguishable creature stifles any sound to come from between his lips. Slowly, Stefan feels himself choking; he thrashes around on the bed, and as all but one of his senses fade into darkness, he realises exactly what is happening.

He still has his sight.

And with it, he sees PAX. From Bandersnatch, of all goddamn things. But he has no time to dwell on the absurdity of this ending before the lack of breath finally constricts his lungs to wrinkle into uselessness.

* * *

 

**Patient File:** Stefan Butler / DECEASED

Mr Butler’s father was scheduled to visit in the morning, however, the nurse attending Butler’s bedside (Miss Selma Telse), upon checking the patient, found him deceased. His IV had been ripped out, and he appeared to have fashioned a noose from his blanket, from which he choked to death. Appropriate police forces and emergency services were called, but the cause of death was ruled as suicide, potentially stress-induced, considering Mr Butler’s mental health record.

**END** | [TRY AGAIN?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522903/chapters/41286146)


	8. BEDSIDE

“So, shall I tell him that you want to -”

“Yes! I mean,” Stefan backtracks, the enthusiasm of his statement both embarrassing him and physically paining him, “if he’s still there, then yeah. He may as well come in.”

“Alright,” the nurse responds, and Stefan notes the blatant excitement in her voice. He cringes when he realises what he’s done. 

_How weak you must look right now. How much you will try to blame your pathetic nature on the choices of some higher power. Why would Colin Ritman want to -_

“Hello.”

Stefan looks up, and there’s Colin. It’s still hard for him to focus on anything, but he’s hyperaware of the fact that Colin is wearing the same clothes as last night. Awkwardly, he purses his lips and nods in greeting.

“So,” Colin says, “got yourself into a right mess here, haven’t you?”

“Mm.”

“Any explanation, or am I going to have to make one up myself?”

“Anything that comes from your mind is probably going to be a better narrative than the truth.”

“Life isn’t a video game or a story, Stefan. It’s not about going back, restarting and re-saving, trying to find the best path. If there’s a reason for all this, I want to hear the truth, not some lie.”

“Why?”

“Call it curiosity.”

“Not care?”

“Maybe that too. So, are you going to tell me or not?”

“I guess.”

“Go on then.”

“I…uh…I was hit by a car.”

“No shit. I did _talk_ to the nurse outside. I mean -”

“You mean why did I run?”

“Yes. Now we’re getting somewhere.”

“Because it was easier.”

“Than…?”

“Than telling the truth.”

“That truth being?”

“Oh come on, Colin. Don’t make me say it.”

“Whatever it is, it’s probably already happened in another timeline. You’ve probably told me this story a thousand times before. One more won’t hurt.”

“Easy for you to say when you’re not the one confessing…”

“Confessing what?”

“Love, Colin!”

_Fuck._

“Oh.”

“Ignore that. Please…pretend I didn’t say anything. I don’t want to lose my job at Tuckersoft, I know it’s an awkward position to put you in, and I’m sorry, but I…”

“Calm down, Stefan. You’ll set your heart rate monitor off and then we’ll have to have this mess of a conversation whilst a nurse watches.”

“I think I’d rather die.”

“You nearly did.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“So…”

“So…”

“I won’t tell Thakur.”

“Thank you.”

“And honestly?”

“Honestly what?”

“I get it. I mean…I know I’ve got Kitty and Pearl but…I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t feel something for you too.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. But it’s not feasible, Stefan. Not now, anyway. Not with Bandersnatch and with Pearl being young.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Guess we got things in the wrong order this time.”

“So you’re saying…next time…?”

“Next time we might finally get it right.”

“That’s enough for me,” Stefan says, lying as much to himself as he is to Colin. Still, nothing gets past the perceptive filter of Colin’s mind, and he takes a seat by the bed.

“I’ll stay.”

“With me?”

“For now,” Colin says.

It’s all a little bit jumbled up, in the end. And what’s the point? If things aren’t perfect, or if things aren’t disastrous, then do they even matter at all?

**END** | [TRY AGAIN?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522903/chapters/41286146)


	9. RIGHT

The wind pushes him forward as he turns to the right and keeps on walking, completely unsure of where’s he’s destined to go. If someone truly is controlling his every move, then he thinks that they’d better have a plan, because right now, he has no idea of what the hell is going to happen to him after this. He’s made such a _fool_ of himself, and in front of goddamn _Colin Ritman._

He wants to die. If only the entity controlling him would oblige.

Forcing himself further into the unknown, Stefan walks down pitch black alleyways, curving and curling back on himself, hoping that he’ll find something worth living or dying for at the end of one of the vacuum corridors that he can’t escape. Embracing danger even more, he closes his eyes, feeling along the rough bricks of the walls that enclose him, pushing himself forward. 

All he can think of is Bandersnatch. It’s all he’s got left, after all. And now that he’s inevitably alienated Colin, he just wants to make the best game that Tuckersoft - no, that _the world -_ has ever produced. If he can’t have Colin’s love, then he at least thinks he deserves a role reversal; he wants to be the admired one, for once. Instead of just the burden, the crying child who couldn’t sleep without his rabbit, who caused his mother to miss the safe train and catch the deadly one. Yes, as much as he blames his father, it’s moments like this that press on the sore spots of his self-hate.

When will he get what he deserves?

The universe, cruel and unforgiving, decides that there’s no time like the present.

With his eyes still closed, he bumps into something fleshy. And then, uncontrolled by any conscious impulse, he’s lifting his eyelids and glaring into the maw of the beast that he thought he could have dominion over. PAX. _His_ monster, from _his_ game.

But, he knows - and he imagines that it’s all too late for such realisations now - that he’s never really had control over his creations. Legacy, by definition, must define itself.

It advances on him, still foggy in his mind. He hasn’t quite finished developing the pixels to give it the horror it commands in Bandersnatch, and this reflects in the reality - PAX is undefinable. At moments, its flesh is soft, squelching against his throat as it tries to strangle him. At other times, there’s fur, matted and wet with a thick substance, but all the same, Stefan knows that this is how he dies.

Unless…

There’s a sharp noise from behind PAX, and it falls to the ground. Standing there, illuminated in light that Stefan cannot pinpoint the source of, is Colin, fist raised.

“Well, that’s unexpected,” Colin says, like he hasn’t just saved Stefan’s life. 

“H-How did you…?”

“I followed you, didn’t I? Couldn’t have you running off on me like that. Mind you, I don’t know what path you normally take to get home, but this is the most convoluted -”

“I wasn’t going home.”

“Right.”

“A-And then…”

“Then this thing shows up? Stefan, when will you understand? You’re not in control. You’re not the player of your own game. This - _all this -_ this is something we can never comprehend.”

“But h-how did you know?”

“We’ve been through this before. You don’t remember. I don’t remember. But I knew something was going to happen. This thing…Bandersnatch…it’s all in your head.”

“No! No it’s not.”

“Alright,” Colin holds his hands up, “I’m sorry. Touchy subject.”

“Yeah.”

“Stop working on Bandersnatch.”

“W-What? I can’t…I…”

“Not forever. Just for now.”

“Why?”

“Because this isn’t healthy, Stefan. You know it, you just won’t admit it.”

“I’m _fine!”_

“No you’re not.”

“I…I…” Stefan can’t form words, and in the absence of anything to say, he just collapses, falling to his knees. Or, at least, he would have fallen to his knees, were it not for Colin’s arms, steadfast and strong, holding him up. He collapses further, sobbing into Colin’s chest, throwing pride to the wind; not that he has a choice. It’s not like he can stop the tears from flowing.

“It’s alright,” Colin says, “you’re right in the hole. More than that. Bandersnatch isn’t good for you, not now.”

“B-But…I…”

“No buts. I’ll talk to Thakur tomorrow. Tell him you need time off. I’ll tell him if he doesn’t cancel the Christmas release, he’ll never get a game from me again.”

“Why would you…? I mean…you’re _Colin Ritman,_ for fucks sake.”

“And you’re Stefan Butler. Every bit as important as me. Save Bandersnatch for a time when you can put your heart and soul into it without ripping out everything that makes you who you are.”

“I…I don’t want to be a failure.”

“This isn’t failure. This is a calculated move. Because you can have it all, Stefan. You can have Bandersnatch be the best it can be, _and_ you can be healthy enough to enjoy it.”

“And what if I don’t? What if I can’t?”

“You can. And you will, Stefan. Now go home. Spend some time with your dad. Fuck it, go to France and meet some Parisian women who’ll blow your mind. Take a few months, and then come back to it.”

“But what if I don’t want -”

“This isn’t a choice you get to make,” Colin says, still holding Stefan up in his arms, “because I’m making it for you.”

“I…”

“Go, Stefan. Go home.”

With that, Colin loosens the tension in his arms and Stefan shakily stands up again. He should be used to having no choice by now, but hearing Colin say it, it sounds like he doesn’t believe in him. And why should he? There’s no reason for anyone to believe in Stefan Butler, failure before he’s even started.

He didn’t even get to say what he needed to say.

**END** | [TRY AGAIN?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522903/chapters/41284445)


	10. I WANNA BE ADORED

It’s like a supernova. As cliché as Stefan knows that to be, it’s the only thing that feels accurate as a description for how _fucking wonderful_ it feels to be kissing Colin. In this exact moment, he doesn’t care if he’s making his own choices or not, because whatever path has led him here must be the right one.

Colin’s hands find their way to the sides of his face, and it feels so beautiful to be touched, to be loved. There’s the soft hum of nighttime surrounding them as Stefan leans further into the kiss, wanting this moment to be forever. Surrendering control has never felt so freeing.

And then they pull apart, and it’s a waiting game of when the sunrise will crown them in all the glory that they have created together.

“I…” Stefan says, breathless.

“I know.”

“How long?”

“Since I met you.”

“I want to say it.”

“Say it,” Colin says, still holding onto Stefan like a lifeline.

“I love you.”

“As we should, in every universe. I love you too.”

“Where do we go from here?”

“I guess…we talk.”

“About?”

“Anything that you want to, darling.”

[TALK ABOUT BANDERSNATCH](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522903/chapters/41289542) | [TALK ABOUT THE FUTURE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522903/chapters/41290046)


	11. CREATION / DESTRUCTION

“I admire you,” Stefan says, “so much. I want your opinion.”

“On?”

“On Bandersnatch.”

“Your game?”

“Yes.”

“It’s…it’s got potential. No, fuck that. It’s already shown its potential. But I am…I am worried.”

“What about?”

“Whether it’s hurting you.”

“How can something so wonderful hurt me?”

“You’re vulnerable, Stefan. I see myself in you - you ache for a legacy. But what if you lose yourself in finding Bandersnatch?”

“It doesn’t matter. As long as I create something -”

“No. The world can’t lose you. _I_ can’t lose you.”

“But what if…”

“What if nothing, Stefan. You’ve already proven yourself, at least to me.”

Sinking into happiness, Stefan rests his head against Colin’s shoulder. Colin plays with Stefan’s hair - thick, deep brown curls entwining themselves against his fingers; it feels so peaceful, so right. Like there’s nothing in the world that could ever lead up to anything but this. Even his thoughts can’t disturb the beauty of this moment, with Colin’s face pushing the grace of the artificial apartment lights to yet unreached heights of glory.

Of course, it has to be ruined.

There’d be no entertainment otherwise.

Something takes form in the corner of the room; at first, Stefan doesn’t notice it, the looming form almost blending into the backdrop of a romantic scene, but then it becomes the only thing he can truly see.

PAX.

He lunges forward, only one thought on his mind. _Protect Colin._ He’s already decided - he doesn’t mind dying if it means saving Colin’s life. In fact, he begs for it. Because love doesn’t solve a lifetime of trauma, and there’s still an ache in his chest telling him that he can only prove himself by dying as a martyr. 

There’s a knife on the counter, a harmless object when used to cut vegetables in the kitchen, but in Stefan’s hands, it becomes powerful. _He_ becomes powerful. Advancing on PAX.

_You can’t control me. Nobody can control me. I have myself. I have Colin. Things can be good, and I will not let you take that from me!_

He’s face to face with PAX now, seething with anger at the audacity of this creature - this spawn of his own brain that _dares_ to challenge the only semblance of happiness that he’s tasted since his mother died. And more than that…he _created_ PAX. He knows the routes that have been programmed, or will be programmed, to escape, defeat, conquer. Oh, how beautiful it will be to be a saviour. Dying as a hero, or living as Colin’s saviour; either way, Stefan Butler is facing, right now, the opportunity to prove himself.

The knife stabs, having thought of its own accord, and Stefan’s hands go with it. He mingles himself in the blood and the guts, vaguely hearing himself shout empty words of comfort to Colin.

All he can hear are Colin’s screams and curses.

“It’s okay!” Stefan shouts.

PAX struggles against the force of the blade, but Stefan pushes deeper, determined. He’s _feeling something._ And he won’t let this demon take Colin from him. No - nothing here is to be worshipped except the beauty of having Colin close to him, safe, secure, stable.

Stefan Butler is uncontrollable.

Stefan Butler is wild.

Stefan Butler wants to murder everything he creates.

He’s hearing words in his head now, and he wants to scream to drown out the voice, but he gives it time to say something - enough to recognise that it isn’t the usual voice in his head telling him what to do and what to think, telling him how to feel his own guilt and trauma like he doesn’t even have dominion over the things that have happened to him. No - this is Colin’s voice.

A plea.

“Think about manifestations, Stefan. Oh, Stefan, my love, what are you doing? What are you destroying? You’ve proven that you can create love, and the fire in your eyes…what will you hurt? How will _you_ hurt? Please, oh please, just look at what you’re doing to us.”

He opens his eyes.

PAX is gone. 

Colin Ritman, his idol, his love. And stab wounds. Interconnected.

Stefan drops the knife, falling to his knees beside Colin’s body. Will there even be a moment for them to reconcile, for him to explain that he cannot control what he is made to do? And oh, god, _oh, god,_ what has he done? He cannot create narrative enough to even imagine what Colin must have thought as he stabbed him to death.

Now, it’s just another waiting game. Wait for the sirens. No - he can’t. Living with the fact that he has killed Colin, his love, his _life…_

It’s not possible.

The knife is cool against his neck. Images flash through his mind.

_Still lakes in the early mornings of June. His mother, waiting for him. Colin, telling him the things that intertwine their fates together. Meeting him. Meeting him. Meeting him. Again and again._

_Please. I need one more chance._

The knife is dragged across flesh. The curtain falls.

There are no actors to take a bow.

**END** | [TRY AGAIN?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522903/chapters/41288657)


	12. HANG THE DJ

“The future. Our future,” Stefan says, as he sits next to Colin. With every second that passes, he seems to curl more and more into his love, and it satisfies him. These are choices that he feels he can make.

“What if there isn’t one?”

“Oh, please don’t say that.”

“Really, Stefan. What if there’s nothing for us except constant changing timelines?”

“Then I’ll love you in every one of those.”

“And what if someone tries to control us? Tries to make us hate each other? Just say…what if?”

“It’s not a possibility I can ever entertain. Not us.”

“Really?”

“Of course. I know I’m not in control. I’m full of trauma and unaddressed issues, and I don’t feel like I can really choose anything, but I know - _I know -_ that I will always love you. Because that’s not a choice, Colin. That’s just how I was created. This world made me so that I could love you.”

“You’re so, so beautiful.”

“I just…I look at you, and I see everything I want to be.”

Colin laughs; there’s bitterness in it. “Stefan, you don’t want to be like me.”

“Why not?”

“Because everyone thinks they know what I’m like. Not you - god, no, you understand all this. But it’s not nice, having everyone think they know you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You make me feel normal.”

“Promise me something, Colin?”

“Anything.”

“You won’t forget me. No matter what happens.”

“I never could.”

**END** | [TRY AGAIN?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522903/chapters/41288657)


	13. SINGLE PLAYER

He fights the urge to go to Colin’s apartment. It’s hard to define why he even _wants_ to go there - sure, there are feelings that he’s repressing, but confronting those won’t help him at all. Instead, he walks home, clutching the note from Colin in his pocket.

It must mean something.

Avoiding his father, he creeps to his bedroom. Bandersnatch lies open on his computer, but he can’t even confront the possibility of working on it right now; he needs to get out of this rut that he’s stuck in. The only way out - at least, the only one that he can see - involves taking the drugs that he knows help Colin. Act as your idols act.

Unsure of what exactly to do, he thinks that it’s as simple enough as popping the pill in his mouth, the bitter taste overwhelming him. Silently, he thanks his past-self for leaving a glass of water by the bed, which he gulps down and waits for the ecstasy to take effect. He’s still not satisfied. He’s never satisfied. 

Pulling apart the buds of the marijuana, he tries to roll it into a messy spliff, using thin papers from a book he no longer reads - the pages are like Bible pages, smooth and fragile; it feels so good, so familiar, to rip them apart.

When he lies on his bed, he starts to feel the come up of one of the drugs - although he’s not sure which. Trying to ride it out alone, he closes his eyes and thinks of Bandersnatch, of how wonderful it will be once he can hold, like some Deity, a creation of his own hands. Who really cares if it destroys him in the process? Not him, and certainly not whoever is controlling him.

The night seeps on, and Stefan feels worse and worse as time passes. Sickness overcomes him, alongside hallucinations which, although drug induced, feel so familiar that they prick and poke at the trauma that he tries to keep repressed. This was a bad idea.

Oh, Stefan Butler is full of bad ideas.

Overwhelmed with a sick sort of confidence, he taps away at his computer now, programming wild routes into Bandersnatch that he never initially planned. It doesn’t matter. None of this matters. He’s deteriorating, spiralling, hating himself in every iteration that he can muster. As long as he creates a legacy, this doesn’t matter.

He wants to tear his hair out. He does. The inevitable comedown makes him want to kill himself. He doesn’t sleep for three days. He walks into Tuckersoft with a rough draft of his game and a destructive tendency.

Of course, Colin is there.

[IGNORE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522903/chapters/41291147) | [CONFESS](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522903/chapters/41290856)


	14. 1984

Now or never, Stefan thinks. Fuelled with confidence that feels so unfamiliar to him, he walks right over to Colin - thank god he’s alone, because Stefan would never have the balls to do what he’s about to do in front of Thakur, or anyone else.

“Colin?” 

“Stefan,” Colin says, less of a greeting, and more of an expectation.

“There’s something I want to tell you.”

“About Bandersnatch?”

“No.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“Go on then.”

“I…I love you.”

“What?”

“Sorry…I…” Stefan begins to backtrack, terrified of what he’s just done. Colin’s eyes widen, and he’s filled with an instant regret, the kind that makes his whole body feel static and grey. He wishes that he could just turn himself off like a video game, shove himself in an attic somewhere and never see the light of day again.

“No. I…uh…”

Something changes. Instantly, Colin freezes up, and his tone shifts from slight understanding to complete confusion. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” Stefan says, “I know this is out of the blue. But I…I really love you.”

He’s never been good at reading facial expressions. If there is an audience here, they are screaming at him to stop talking, not because they want to deny him the freedom of expression or the free will to speak his mind, but because an audience always knows something that the protagonist will realise all too late.

Dramatic irony. Something like that.

“Colin…?” Stefan pleads, reality hitting him. Colin just stares at him. Or, more accurately, _behind_ him.

At Thakur.

“Stefan, come into the office for a second,” Thakur says.

_Shit. You’ve really fucked it up now._

“Y-Yes,” Stefan whispers, following Thakur into the room. When the door closes behind him, his stomach sinks.

“I took you onto this company because your game had promise,” Thakur says.

“I know. I…I’m sorry.”

“Look, I don’t want to do this. Hell, I know Colin swings that way, but he keeps it quiet. It’s what you have to do, you know?”

“I know. I’m sorry, sir.”

“I’m sorry, Stefan. But people heard you. It’s going to cause…tension…in the office. People are going to talk. There’ll be no good reception of Bandersnatch if it gets out that the creator is…well…”

“Gay?”

“Yes.”

“S-So…is this it?”

“I’m sorry, Stefan. If it was down to me, I’d keep you on. I don’t really care who you love, but I’m not the boss here. I mean…I _am,_ but…even I have to answer to someone.”

“So you’re firing me?”

“It’s not _technically_ firing you. I wouldn’t do that, not for your record. This kind of stuff…this can destroy a man, Stefan. I’m not saying that what you just did didn’t take guts, because it did, but…Tuckersoft has to maintain the high regard of the public.”

“So you can’t have a gay person working on your team.”

“Not exactly. Like I said, Colin isn’t…heterosexual. But it’s been discussed. He knows what he can and can’t say in the workplace. Even geniuses like Colin Ritman have to abide by some form of control. And people will talk. You know how it is.”

“I…”

“I’m sorry, Stefan.”

“So you’re not firing me, but I can’t work here any more?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You want me to resign?”

“Ideally. It’ll make this easier on the company…and on your reputation.”

“And what if I say no?”

“Don’t be rash. We all know how this can ruin careers.”

“I don’t care about my career! I want to get Bandersnatch finished and out there! I…I have to.”

“It can’t happen.”

“I just said I don’t care! Not about my career, my reputation, any of it! This is the only legitimate choice I’ve made for myself.”

“It’s not just you that you have to think about, Stefan. It’s Colin. He’s famous. If word gets out…it could ruin him.”

“So I should…resign? For Colin.”

“Yes.”

“And what if word gets out anyway?”

“It won’t. If you leave, I’ll be able to convince everyone to keep it quiet. Pay them off if I have to.”

“And you can’t do that if I stay?”

“I don’t think they’d oblige.”

“I see how it is.”

“I’m sorry, Stefan.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Stefan grabs his bag, pushing back the tears that threaten to ruin his exit. He sees Colin on the way out. There’s an apology, unsaid, in his eyes.

But everyone has a legacy to uphold. Stefan Butler’s ends here.

**END** | [TRY AGAIN?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522903/chapters/41290475)


	15. THE WRONG TYPE OF CONFESSION

There’s no way that he can confess his love to Colin now. He’s been so calculated, so good at keeping everything secret and hidden. There’s his reputation at stake, and Colin’s too. 

No, the best thing to do is to spend as little time as possible here, and then go back home, to the comfort of Bandersnatch’s discomfort. He’s halfway to Thakur’s office, game in hand, when Colin approaches him.

“Stefan,” he says. The way friends do. _Just friends._ Who’d have thought that Stefan Butler would pass up on the opportunity to be friends with _The Colin Ritman._ Just because he’s selfish. Just because he wants more.

“Hi, Colin,” Stefan replies, trying to keep himself cool and detached.

“So, I wanted to ask you something.”

_Oh god, here we go. What if Colin confesses first? How wonderful that would be! Oh, please, please, please._

“Sure.”

“I…I proposed to Kitty last night.”

_Shit._

“And,” he continues, “I don’t have too many people that I trust. But I like you. I get you. I want you to be my Best Man.”

“Best Man?”

“You know, at the wedding?”

“Oh,” Stefan says. There’s bile in his throat, worming its way into the core of his being. He can’t say no. He _wants_ to say no, but he just can’t do it. There’s no part of him that ever wants to let Colin down, even if he doesn’t detect a flicker of happiness and hope in Colin’s eyes. But being a Best Man? Standing at an altar and watching Colin proclaim love for someone else?

It’s easier to say yes, because that gets him out of the situation as quickly as possible.

“Yeah,” he tells Colin, “yeah. I’d be honoured.”

“Thanks man,” Colin says, patting him on the shoulder before turning around to get back to his work.

Get back to his work.

_It should be that easy, shouldn’t it?_

**END** | [TRY AGAIN?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522903/chapters/41290475)

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know which ending you got! I think this fic has turned out pretty alright, and comments are really appreciated.
> 
> (Thanks to my friends Dakota and Merry for helping me with the French translation of Colin's note. I studied French as a minor subject in first year of university but I used google translate and then asked for their help because I wanted this to be accurate, and I haven't been keeping on top of learning French recently - I should get back on it!)


End file.
